Alternate Ending to Lockwood & Co The Screaming Staircase
by ACCOUNTDOESNOTGETUSED
Summary: Lucy is devastated when the mission in Combe Carey Hall leaves the team one member short. She struggles to cope with losing Lockwood, and becomes an empty shell. It's up to George to try and bring her back and make her see life is worth living.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Lockwood & Co.

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Lucy.P.O.V

I struggled to my feet. My head spun and I nearly fell back down. The air was thick with dust, but I could still make out the form of Lockwood lying on the floor a short way away.

"Lockwood?" I asked, a terrible fear gripping at my heart. I staggered over to him, knelt down and turned him over. He was covered in dust and blood was seeping from under his hair.

"Lockwood?" I shook him. "Snap out of it! Wake up!" I pulled up his sleeve and felt his pulse. Yes! There it was. Faint, but there.

"Lucy."

I pulled Lockwood into my arms. It didn't feel quite right having him there in my arms.

"Lucy." Lockwood coughed.

"Lockwood I'm here," I assured him. He smiled. It was a mere shadow of his former fabulous smile. Then his smile became fixed and his eyes lost their shine. H went limp.

"No! Lockwood!" I sobbed. "No!"

"Lucy! Lucy! What's happened?" George came lumbering over. But I hardly noticed. Nothing mattered.

Lockwood was dead. And I realised that he had been more than just a friend to me, he had been so much more. Now he was gone and would never know how I felt.

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 **I cried writing this! Sorry, sorry!**

 **Look, just leave a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi. I'm making this into a full length story! Lucy's POV. I hope you all like it. This is basically how Lucy copes with Lockwood'd death. I hope I've written it good enough for you all. (:**

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The rain was falling in slow-motion, splashing onto the black lid of the coffin. _His coffin._

Everything seemed to have been slowed down and turned hazy. I hadn't seen things clearly since that night at Combe Carey, hadn't felt anything properly, hadn't been out of my bedroom. _His_ childhood bedroom. I hadn't talked to anyone. I refused to answer any questions about what happened that night in the catacombs under the most haunted house in Briton.

I was only dimly aware of George stirring me away from the crowd.

"Lucy Carlyle?"

My eyes didn't move. I couldn't bring myself to look into the mans eyes, knowing what he was here for.

"She hasn't spoken since he died," George said in an undertone.

"I see. Leave her with me, I have an important matter to discus with her, regarding Mr. Lockwood's Will."

I lifted my eyes to try and see the stranger who had spoken. I couldn't really see him because of the haze. He was a lawyer.

When he mentioned _His_ death pain shot through me. I sunk to my knees, gasping. I was hollow, empty. The pain wasn't even there. How could I be feeling pain when I had nothing inside me to feel it with? I was nothing. I should have been given the chance to switch places with _Him._

"Lucy," the man knelt so he was on my level. "I know it is hard when you lose someone. I have something for you that he wanted you to have. Do you want to see it?" His voice was supposed to sound comforting, I suppose.

Numbly I looked at him. "Yes." It hurt me to speak, when all I wanted was to crawl into bed and stay there until he came home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi! I'm back with a new chapter. Yay!**

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"Lucy, Luce-"

"No." I felt my already shattered heart splinter into minuscule pieces, making me feel as though I was going to fall apart. "No . . . I won't fall apart, I won't. You know I won't." I slumped against the wall, breathing heavily and clutching my chest to stop my heart from flowing away down the stream that was my blood.

The lawyer pulled me up and helped me walk down the hall.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Miss Carlyle."

"Lucy," I whispered. "Call . . . me Lucy . . ." I groaned, unable to hold my heart together.

Before I knew it, I was being helped into a chair in front of a desk. The lawyer-man sat across the desk from me.

"Lucy . . . I am _His_ lawyer. I'm Dr. Jenkins. Mr. Lockwood said in his will he wants you to look in The Room. He said you'd know what that meant. Do you?" he asked.

I nodded. "I know what it means."

"Do you need a person to help you . . . through this?" His voice was concerned, something I was used to by now.

For the first time in weeks, no, since _His_ death, I felt awake. I wasn't the empty shell I had been.

My eyes lifted to Jenkins' face, agleam with something I had never felt . . . Revenge, the desire to hurt someone.

"I don't need help. I don't want it!" I growled, feeling feral.

"Okay, okay, Lucy. I also have something else Mr. Lockwood left you." He reached into the desk drawer and pulled out an envelope with Lockwood's untidy script on the front. He pushed it across the desk top to me.

I carefully picked it up and opened it. The paper inside was thick, yellowed with age and burnt in places, making the writing unreadable in patches. It was burnt by ectoplasm.

"Thank you, Mr. Jenkins. Is there anything else?" I asked, rising from my seat.

"No. Allow me to escort you to the exit, Lucy."

"No thank you. I am perfectly capable of finding my way one my own." Dumb old man!


	4. Chapter 4

I walked down the isle in the church to find Lockwood's newly dug grave. I knew I would find it out there.

The letter was clutched tightly in my hand along with a single white flower, slightly wilting.

As I reached out for the door handle, the door burst open.

"I don't care! He's gone! I don't want to hear all that stupid stuff about 'rest it peace.' Your always spouting that crap! I'm not interested," a distraught girl about my age yelled over her shoulder to a woman of about forty. The girl had straggly blond hair and a thin figure.

"Hey, what's your name?" I asked, unable to stop myself.

The girl started wiping her eyes. "Olivia. Who are you?"

"I'm Lucy. Uh . . . who was it you lost? I just . . . just lost . . . someone." It cost me much to say his name.

"Olivia, I'm going! You should leave too. There is no way you should be in any church after making that racket!" he mother scolded her. She then left.

"Come." I held out my hand to her, feeling oddly satisfied that another was in as much pain as I was.

Olivia took my hand and we went side by side into the graveyard.

"Who was he?" Olivia asked sadly.

"His name was . . . was . . . An . . . thony . . . Lockwood. He was an Agent. He died an Agent." I was gasping for breath by the end of it.

"He was the one who ended up burning that house to the ground. Your Lucy Carlyle."

"Yes."

I would have given anything to exchange places with Him.

"I lost someone special too. He was my fiancé," she whispered.

"What was he called?"

"Quill Kipps."

"Kipps! I knew him. He was my arch enemy in many ways . . . I never . . ." I trailed off. The girl was gone as if she had never been. "Olivia? OLIVIA?!"

"Your hallucinating, Lucy . . ."

When you are little, you think the most trivial things are the most important. Like when your first tooth is bleeding when its about to fall out. You think that the littlest cut is the biggest thing. If only things stayed that way. If only I could have stayed that way.


	5. Chapter 5

I jolted up from my bed, gasping.

That was the tenth time I had had that dream. Ever since I had come back from the funeral (ten days ago), I had been plagued every night by the dreams. But every time I had this dream it was always different in a way I couldn't understand.

"Lockwood," I sobbed, unable to hold back the tears any longer. They rolled down my cheeks and fell down, down, down . . . splash, onto the letter I hadn't been able to read.

Outside the window the Watch Light, if that was what it's called, flashed on, illuminating my room.

"Luce . . . "

"Who there?" I whispered, fear creeping up my spine.

"Luce, it's me . . . Lockwood . . . Please, just read the letter?" he whispered.

"Lockwood!" I yelled, jumping out of bed and trying to find him in the dark.

"I'm not really here, Luce. I'm dead, I'm in your head."

"No, no! Don't go. Please!" I wailed, feeling unbelievably shattered.

"Goodbye . . ." I felt his breath on my face as he 'melted' away.

"Don't leave me again," I begged on my knees. But he was gone.

"Lucy?" The door opened and George shuffled in. "Are you okay? I heard you shout."

"GET OUT!" I screamed, lashing out at him. He was out of my room in less than a second.

Oh my God, I was going insane, wasn't I? Not that it really mattered if I was going insane. At least if I went to the asylum I would be made to forget the pain. But I would forget that he ever existed. I crumpled on the floor, not sure which was worse.

My whole body shook with anger and tears. My newly repaired heart was staked with a very splintery piece of wood. I rolled onto my side and huddled there, in the middle of my floor. I was nothing, empty. I would always be like this inside, but I must pretend to be strong, for George. For Him.


	6. Chapter 6

**As I said I would I have changed the names of Lockwood's parents t their real names after finding out what the hell they were actually called. (:**

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My imagination had gone to far! What the hell was wrong with me?

"He wants me to read the letter. Fine. If that's what you really want . . ." I murmured to myself, unfolding the letter. There was a newspaper clipping, as well.

 **DEATH OF FITTES AGENTS!**

 **Fittes Agents, Celia and Donald Lockwood were killed on a case last night. Their child, Anthony, (16), was unavailable for questioning. "Mr and Mrs Lockwood were two of the best Agents," Investigator Montagu Barnes, DEPRAC, commented.**

 **Celia and Donald were investigating the Type Two ghosts haunting Big Ben. The rumour is that Celia was found at the bottom of the stairs dead. She was thought to have fallen. Donald was found at the top of the stairs, blue from Ghost Touch. The ghosts were never eradicated.**

 **-Reporter Julia Grace.**

I turned to the next page; a Birth and Death Certificate.

 _Jessica Marie Lockwood._

 _Born, May, 12, 1971._

 _Died, February 12, age 19._

 _Family: Anthony J Lockwood; brother. Celia H Lockwood; mother. Donald J Lockwood; father._

 _Cause of Death: Ghost Touch._

Jessica Lockwood. Lockwood had had a sister.

Pity surged through me. I had never known what he was hiding, why he was always so keen to steer clear of any topic that concerned his family.

I didn't know what to feel. Or think.

Jessica. Poor Lockwood. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he must have gone through.

The next morning was _AWFUL._ I was exhausted from the previous night, I was still aching inside from losing him and finding out about his past in two small pieces of paper.

At breakfast, George was silent, eating his way through his pancakes glumly.

"George," I began, "I'm sorry about last night." I smiled apologetically.

"Humf!" he grunted.

"I was thinking, maybe we should start going on cases again," I suggested seriously.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello! I'm sorry about the shortness of my chapters. I make them short because I find it hard to read long chapter on the internet.**

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"How are we supposed to go on cases? We need another person!"

"We can't replace - we can't, we just can't!" I wiped my eyes with my sleeve.

"I'm not trying to insult Lockwood by saying we need a replacement," George whispered almost incoherently.

"I'm sorry. Your right." I grimaced at the thought of having a new member added to the team. "We need another member. I'm going to go write up the article now, George," I told him, rising from my seat and vacating the room.

My step was brisk as I walked down the stairs to the study.

"Luce." This time I saw him in clear detail, every curve of his face, every untidy strand of hair. Lockwood.

"What? Lockwood!" I fling myself forward to hug him but he's not there. "No." I sank to my knees and rocked back and forth in agony. He was gone. These hallucinations weren't helping me accept that fact. I needed to let him go. How could I do that?

I wiped the tears away and got to my feet. George needed me to be strong, so I would be.

" _The rule here is that each member of the agency only takes one biscuit at a time in strict rotation. Keeps fair, keeps it orderly. Nicking two in times of stress just isn't done."_

I smiled at that time, long ago, when I barely knew Lockwood.

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 **Review. If you don't I'll think no one is reading my story. (:**


	8. Chapter 8

**Here's another (short) chapter! Enjoy!**

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I looked at the large bundle of paper I had printed, each advertising in big letters our need for a new agent.

I had originally planned on getting the advertisement put in the paper but then I had remembered what I had last read in it; _Mr. Anthony J. Lockwood died from a serious wound to the head on a case last night. His colleagues were unavailable for comment._

It surprised me that I didn't slide to the floor in agony at the memory.

I remembered the time when I was happy, joyful, when I wasn't terrorised by dreams of _that_ night. I should have known it would never last.

I stand up, taking the bunch of flyers with me, as I walk to the old wooden door and open it. I don't hurry to get up the stairs. I don't hurry to do anything anymore.

"George!" I yelled. "I'm going to go out to put up the advert! See you when I get back." I sling my coat on and run out into the street, the flyers clutched to my chest.

I make my way around town giving a few flyers to each cashier person in working in each shop I pass, to get them to put them in their shop windows.

"Your Lucy Carlisle, aren't you?" a male voice asked from behind me.

I sighed, turning to see who it was. The man had beady eyes, back hair and a lean figure.

"It's Carlyle, Mr . . .?"

"Sherlock Homes."

Right, because that's true.

"Where's Watson?" I said dryly, raising my eyebrows.

"He's indisposed, I'm afraid." We both laugh. "No, my parents were Sherlock Holmes fanatics, so I was the one who got landed with the name." He sighed.

"What'd you want, anyway?" I asked.

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 **Review, plz!**


	9. note

**Hello. This is just a quick note.**

 **I just got a review saying, "** IDIOT! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THE NAME OF LOCKWOOD'S PARENTS! READ "THE HOLLOW BOY"!" **From a guest. Now if I don't know their names and your annoyed with that fact, why don't you tell me them if you know so much, Guest? If your that fucked off then tell me and I will be more than happy to change their names. But do you honestly expect me to keep my fans waiting while I reread the Hollow Boy?!**

 **-Summer**

 **xxx**


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